Name in a Bullet
by beaker67
Summary: The Odyssey/ISS series continues. The Synths have begun their war against humans. The Cadre stands in resistance. It leaves the Odyssey/ISS crew to make a choice. Or will they? The lines are forming. Updated 11/27/09


ODYSSEY/ISS

An **Odyssey 5 **tie-in series

**Odyssey 5**- and its characters- are the property of Manny Coto, Showtime Networks, and Sony Pictures Television. They are used without permission, but with respect. All other characters are the creative property of the author. The names of actual persons are used fictitiously. This story does deal with the 'Columbia' tragedy. I have tried to be respectful, while keeping the fictional part of this story. If you would feel offended by its being mentioned and/or referred to, you might not wish to read this installment of my series.

Author's Note: Anybody interested in another aspect of the 'Columbia' tragedy should read the book, **Too Far from Home **by Chris Jones. It chronicles the tragedy and those left behind in the ISS. It's a look at how these three 'left behind' on the ISS dealt with things before, during, and after. It is also an excellent look into NASA and the astronauts of the Agency.

Also worth mentioning- by way of shameless plug- is the official NASA website. If you want to know about space travel and exploration, give it a serious look.

**Story 4: Name in a Bullet**

* * *

**January 27****th****, 2003**-** Atlanta, Georgia**

By the time Seth Merchant had pulled into the driveway after a long day, the grand idea of taking off for the weekend was firmly implanted. It wasn't even finished being Monday and he was looking forward to his next days off. He had no doubts that Shelly had truly dropped him for good. That their nearly five years together had finally dissolved at last.

The sex had been great. Everything else had almost made Seth forget that he was still a thirty-five year old bachelor- until he began seeking 'excitement' elsewhere. It wasn't like the Army. In there you could get deployed or become 'unreachable' and the most ardent lover had no choice but to back down. However, Seth was no longer in the Army and Shelly was Ms. Jealous Bitch from Hell'. She tried to get a formal commitment from him, forgiving his 'transgression'.. Seth dug in his heels against it.

Because of this, the fact that he was gawking after the garage door opened was of no shock: Shelly's car was parked inside.

"What the FUCK!!!"

Seth snarled in disbelief. He pulled his car to the side and shut it off. He normally would not have minded that she was here: her shit needed to get moved out on the quick, though. It was rather that he was expecting some "Monday Night Nookie" to make up for the lack of football until the Super Bowl came around. Not to mention that the 'nookie' was far hotter than Shelly had ever been.

Getting out of his car, Seth grabbed his briefcase.

Once again he'd brought work home with him- not that he intended to get anything done tonight. His job as a computer programmer at Aerodyne was lucrative and it kept him hopping. It looked good to look productive; even when the actual goal in his mind was a complete 180 from anything Aerodyne needed done. He was in the cream of their world. He could afford a little slack, from time to time.

Merchant looked at Shelly's car. God, she was an arrogant bitch. That she dared to come over when he wasn't around spoke of how little she cared for his right to a secure house. Wait a minute? Hadn't he gotten all the keys from her?

Seth opened the door and the chaos inside hit his eyes almost immediately. The inside of his condo looked like it had been turned inside-out. Furniture, pictures, nearly everything was busted or destroyed. It was one hell of a trash job and she had the balls to still be here!

His mind seethed. Words were out of his mouth before he could check himself. They came out deceptively pleasant, with a touch of concern.

"Shelly? Where are you, darling?"

_Wherever the fuck you are, you got it coming! Cunt! _

Seth expected to hear her voice, or at least some exaggerated 'boo-hooing'. She was fond of theatrics. Instead, there was dead silence.

_Fuck! Don't tell me she's lurking around?!_

Thoughts of 'Fatal Attraction' went through his mind. The last thing he needed was a psycho-bitch coming out of the blue. He looked up the stairs and decided to make his way up to the bedroom. He heard a buzzing about his ears and idly swatted at it.

_Fucking fly? This time of year?_

"Shelly? Are you up there?"

Merchant called out, before his world went black.

Anybody who would have seen it would have said that the bullet had come from nowhere. Had even been waiting for its target to show up. Had hit its target in the temple and dropped the former Army corporal like a log. Had done exactly the same thing a similar such round had done to Shelly Stevens as she tried to pack up her belongings hours before.

Silence reigned in the condo once more.

* * *

**January 31****st****, 2003**

**Houston, Texas**

By the time she got home from NASA, Mali Flynn was wiped.

Getting back up to speed had her in what was, at the JSC, known informally by some as the 'dunk tank'. It was, essentially, doing mock EVAs in a huge-ass swimming pool while encased in a spacesuit. She was working on a model of the ISS section. The ISS was nowhere near as complete as when she would be on it in 2007, nor was it easy to work with those who could not hold up their end.

Most days, Mali was glad to do time in the 'tank'. Today was different.

Mali made it a personal policy to never talk shit about other astronauts, whether at the Cape or the JSC. She did, and had, critiqued people. However, only behind a shut door and only with those superior to her. Some people really put the strain on her.

Henry Moran seriously strained that policy for the first time in a long while.

How in hell he'd been able to stay in the rotation was beyond her comprehension. Though the man was in his early 30s, the astronaut should have been able to get the gist of the work. Problem was, if he ever got anything he'd lost it all.

She trudged in the door with her briefcase and the NASA equivalent of 'homework' and had smelled the lamb and garlic right off the bat. That Chuck Taggart had taken to cooking up gyros for dinner said something about how he was viewing things. There was the fact that he was out of the rotations and needed things to do. One of those things was to cook. It was also his way of indicating far more than professional friendship with her. Ever since she got back from Ft. Bliss, he'd been more than a bit attentive. Things were also growing much closer.

After twelve hours at the JSC done without any real meal break or even a chance to do anything else, Mali was famished. Neil had also gotten home shortly after she did. Once cleaned up, the meal disappeared without much more ado. There would be no leftovers for anybody tomorrow.

Mali hadn't felt like dumping on Chuck. The BS of the day was not the way to greet somebody when you first got in the door. Nor during dinner. After helping him clean up, she settled in at the dining room table and began the slog through her day's assignments. Being gone so long from NASA had made this game of 'catch-up' especially arduous. None of the rest of the Expedition 8 crew had the load she did. It wasn't a matter of her not being able to get what had to be done, it was getting back up to speed on it all. The 'Network' didn't exist for her anymore. Never again would it control her as it had done in the original timestream.

She shut her eyes a moment at the open book in front of her and rubbed the bridge of her nose a moment. Chuck had commented about her using too much 'eau de Chlorine'. She couldn't do much more than grin. The pool always reeked of it. Like it or not, anybody who spent time there smelled powerfully of a bleach bottle. Even when you were in the suits, you got clobbered with the fumes.

She hadn't seen Chuck walk in, after shutting off the kitchen light for the night. The TV was going in the other room as Neil was watching something on cable. One of the clocks chimed the hour. It was already nine o'clock.

He moved to look at the material over her shoulder.

Every mission had a manual that needed to be memorized. Every last step had to be recalled, in correct sequence, and executed without flaw or hesitation. It didn't matter if it was aboard the Shuttle, a rocket, or even on the ISS. Just making it through one of them was enough to turn many brains into jelly. Especially after a long day of doing 'sims' underwater. Chuck Taggart certainly understood how she was feeling and knew she was professional enough to stick with it until it was down pat

It was odd how he felt now. Almost the feeling that, somehow, Mali had switched off with Paige as the main female in his life. There was no real intimacy, yet. The episode with Penny had taken much of the urge for 'rebound' sex out of him. He still knew that things were certainly getting warm. Had been, ever since he first saw Mali on her boat up in Washington State. Had never seen eyes and a smile like hers- save for Paige. That came later. Still, seeing her on her boat and as capable on it as off it grabbed him. His attraction was immediate.

Having Mali around was like having somebody who knew and understood you better than anybody on the outside could. All the fawning, younger women he'd met in the past couldn't hold up to somebody who was part of the NASA world like he was. Not to mention somebody who was part of their group. It still surprised him, how they were able to find her and have one more person to help relieve the sense of isolation that they all felt on occasion.

Chuck looked over all the stuff in front of her. Six months in the ISS loomed for her. There were no short stints for her. In a way, he wished that he could join her. He'd been aboard the ISS, but never as part of an Expedition. He would have liked to be en able to share the time with her. Then again, the ISS was one hell of a 'fishbowl'. There was very little privacy and even less chance to get to know somebody.

NASA unofficially frowned on such things. Hodge damn near forbade it.

"My brain feels like a blob of goo tonight."

Mali muttered and let her hands hold her head. Her fingers rubbed her scalp a few moments.

"Thank God tomorrow is Saturday."

Taggart came up behind her and began to massage her shoulders and neck. Something he just did, without another thought as to if it was right or wrong. He was getting to the same point that he once been at with Paige. The point of being 'in sync' with someone.

"You should talk with Jakes about Moran."

"He'd never listen. Besides, John Jakes sucks Hodge's ass like the born follower he's always been. Nobody will touch him because of it. The only thing I could really hope for is that Moran could somehow shoot himself in the fucking foot, figuratively-speaking."

Mali allowed herself to relax as Taggart's hands worked on her shoulders. He did know how to work at getting kinks out. Spoke quietly, not wanting Neil to listen in from the other room. Not that either Chuck or her could be seen from where the kid sat.

"_You're hired_. Problem is, much more and I'll fall asleep before I can make it upstairs to bed."

Taggart had to admit he liked the idea. Save that the bed he had in mind was not the one in Mark's room. He watched her hang her head, obviously enjoying the rub-down. Her eyes were shut. Bent down and spoke into her ear. It was the first time he voiced 'interest' to her.

"That's not a problem for me."

Mali's head came up and her eyes opened. She turned to look up at him. Her mouth gave a half-smile. Clearly amused by his proposal. She turned back to the manual and shut it, before looking up at him again. His hand lifted her chin before he kissed her. Their lips stayed together for a long moment, before Taggart broke it off.

"You know, I think we both should get the hell out of town tomorrow morning and head off to the weeds. Take in a change of scenery."

Taggart whispered by her cheek, his fingers felt the warm skin of her neck . Simply being near her had his heart racing.

"So long as I can sleep until seven."

Mali gave him a quick peck on the cheek , then stretched her arms.

"Think I'm going to get up to the shower and try to smell like something other than the Clorox factory."

He stood back as Mali got to her feet. She turned to look at him and gave him a look. One that told him exactly where she'd be once the shower was done. He was certain that it wouldn't be Mark's room.

Nor was he shocked by it. Things had been brewing since Christmas. There just was never a good time to indulge. Maybe it was being back in the routine at the JSC that finally got things smoothed out. Or it was the fact that the Plastics had kept very quiet since Mali had gotten back from being kidnapped. Either way, Taggart was certainly up for what was coming. That Mali was equally interested only added to his anticipation.

"Don't be late, Commander."

Mali's voice came out as a whisper. They both knew Neil's hearing was pretty damn good.

"You best bet that I won't, Major."

* * *

**Atlanta, Georgia**

Staff Sergeant John Hutchins hadn't been to Atlanta in an age.

He very seldom saw any members of the old crew anymore. If he did, it was usually when he was invited to graduations or weddings. Even to a baptism, when he'd been godfather to Farrow's first son. Nick Farrow was the last person in the world he'd ever thought would settle down and get married. The running joke in the unit was that Farrow collected notches all over like some collected souvenirs.

Hutchins knew there would be a time for funerals in the coming decades. Nobody lived forever. Certainly all soldiers had their time, before being called back to the great 'base in the sky'. Nobody ever talked much about that. Especially since they'd all seen buddies get blown away in Iraq. Buddies who would never be seen again.

Hutchins rubbed a hand over his chiseled face and his short, trimmed mustache. His ice-blue eyes looked at the road ahead. His mind went over the frantic call from Nicole Merchant [Seth's sister] who knew Hutchins would want to know.

How in hell Merchant wound up fucking tarts all over was a mystery to him. Then again, Merchant's bitch, Shelly, was just like any of the others.

It seemed that the new woman hadn't been able to make it that Monday and decided to pop in on Thursday. Suffice to say, the bodies were already bloating. She'd called the Police first, after puking in the kitchen sink.

As his car turned onto Yellow Street, he slowed down. His eyes caught the cop cars towards the end of the block. Little doubt that it was Seth's condo. It was the only way he could've differentiated it from any of the other cookie-cutter dwellings around. He was a little shocked that the cops were still here. It had been nearly two days and they still hadn't left?

As a matter of fact, the Police were wrapping up when he saw Merchant's parents, both in their late sixties, huddled together as the Police went about what they needed to do. They seemed almost lost in the way they looked. Their eyes were red-rimmed and their faces were drained. They must have already been to the morgue. Hutchins couldn't imagine their flight from New Mexico had been a joy.

It was Carol Merchant who saw him first and recognized him, followed by Ian Merchant. The old Marine met Hutchins gaze and gave a weak smile before they came over to him. They all hugged each other. Whatever else might have happened, Seth Merchant never lost the fact that his Army buddies gave a shit. Even if those buddies might have run a bit late in arriving. Merchant's parents certainly knew that.

It would be hours later, after cups of coffee, when Hutchins would catnap until dawn. Sleep until he got up and helped lend a hand to the grieving parents who'd lost their only son. The old crew needed to be notified.

* * *

_The alarm klaxon blared in her ears as she made the desperate handholds to the pod. She could seal the door, but it was like flowing through molasses to get to the hatch and get through. The suction was keenly felt; the type of 'breeze' you never, ever wanted to experience in space._

_The flickering lights lent an almost strobe-like quality. The smell of shorting wiring was thick in her nose, as it followed the current to the hull breach._

_She watched her hands finally grip the last hold before the hatch as she threw herself through. She swung around and pulled the door shut. It felt like it weighed two thousand pounds. Her racing heart sucked in way more air than was available. Heard the hatch come shut and cranked the handle. The bolts engaged and the rush of air stopped._

_As if with no choice to look away, she looked through the glass and saw one of her crewmates get sucked out; his face contorted in a silent yell, before zero-pressure atmosphere exploded him. Her eyes tore away from the scene to see a piece of console flying at her after a very sharp jolt to the ISS._

_It came toward her gut like a freight train and impacted. She raised her hands in a vain response of deflection. The piece hit her torso and blew the wind completely out of her. Heard- and felt- her ribs break._

_Her world went black for a moment. There was no Seeker, no ISS, and no hope._

_Her eyes opened to the surreal vision of fragments of Earth floating in slow-motion before her eyes......_

Mali hadn't screamed upon coming awake from the nightmare. If it was a strict 'flashback' then the Seeker would have been there. It was another variation on the same nightmare. Still, her body had reacted the way it did when she had been in the ISS- without direct thought to action.

She was, however, backed up against the headboard with raised hands. She'd flung herself back from the formerly perceived, new opening in the ISS hull, but met a wall instead. Her breathing had stopped and her eyes couldn't comprehend the dark bedroom for many moments. The sudden action had woken up Chuck. It took him a few seconds, then knew what had happened without any further need for comprehension. The way she looked said more than enough. He saw the shock and horror, even in the darkness of the room. Knew what she must be seeing before her eyes. _Had_ seen before her eyes.

"Mali?'

He reached out and touched her arm.

As if he'd flicked a switch, he heard Mali take a ragged gasp of air in, gagged, then winced in pain. Took another breath, then another. Began breathing, but it certainly must have hurt. He had no idea how long her breathing had stopped until she came awake once more. Saw her eyes slam shut as she slid back down under the sheets. Her undershirt soaked through with sweat He took her in his arms and pulled her to him. His hand stroked her hair as she got her breath back in gasps, and between sobs.

"Christ, it hurts!"

She said, burying her face in his chest. Could feel the warmth of his skin after recalling the piercing of absolute-zero cold. His smell was comforting, after the noxious fumes of burnt and destroyed circuitry and other materials. Just having him close was a balm for the absolute isolation she felt just before she, and the ISS, ceased to be. Nightmare or no, she was glad to have him with her.

"I know, I know. It's over now."

Taggart kissed the top of her head and held her close. She'd told of what happened on the ISS, but it never seemed- or could- hit home like he'd just witnessed. Mali's arms were holding on to him for dear life; clung to him like a life-preserver. Not that he minded.

"Was it the ISS?"

He needn't have asked when Mali was glued to him and felt her nod. For the strength she had, she was able to suck down a lot of pain to get things done. However, he doubted she would ever come to grips with what had happened to her. Even if they did manage to save the world, Chuck Taggart wondered if the nightmares would ever stop.

For any of them.

* * *

Neil saw the change when he got down for breakfast.

Nothing needed to be said about last night. Not that he'd heard anything. Even the way they interacted hadn't changed to openly obvious. Still, it was something Chuck Taggart's only, remaining son could have known. He knew that everybody needed to move on. Not that Paige Taggart would ever be forgotten. Neil knew that his father sure-as-shit could have picked somebody far worse than Major Flynn to be attached to.

It still made him ponder the nature of his father to take to somebody that even Neil knew most men would never care for. At least, not romantically. If Mali hadn't been through what they had, would his father still have gotten together with her?

He tended to doubt it. Even if she was an astronaut too.

He watched Mali pour herself a mug of tea and turn away from the counter. There was now a kettle that had permanent residence on the stove for that purpose. Something even his mother never took to having out- save for occasionally. Usually between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

The mug's rim raised to her lips as his father got in with the morning paper. It was still fairly early in the morning. He watched them look at each other and saw a distinct affection there, brief as it was.

"So what are the plans today?"

Neil asked, as his father went to grab a mug from the cupboard.

There was a silence before Mali looked over the rim of the mug again. She'd heard Neil, but something got her visual attention first. Not at Chuck, but at the calendar on the wall. It hadn't been flipped to February, yet. She lowered the mug. How in hell had it slipped her mind?

"Oh shit."

The two Taggarts looked at her. Saw her glance at the clock on the wall. She looked back to the calendar. How in holy hell had she spaced what today meant? She felt like an idiot for even thinking today was a normal day- like any other.

"Is 'Columbia' into re-entry yet?"

Her words would have been cryptic in any other household but a NASA one.

Taggart looked at the kitchen clock and did some quick calculations. It was tight, but perhaps not yet. He knew what she'd just recalled and nearly all of them had, in the course of living life, had forgotten. He was already moving. There was no bigger priority than getting to Mission Control now. The paper was left on the counter- in its bag.

"No. They're gearing up for it, though."

Mali set her mug down on the counter. Still half-full.

It was almost a silent cue that they all went to get on better clothes, grab coats, JSC passes, and leave.

* * *

A half hour later and they made it to the JSC, with very little time to spare.

Mali's eyes saw the familiar screens of the Agency. One was trained on near-clear, blue sky. The people below, at the consoles, acted [as would be expected] like nothing was amiss. She moved down to get a better look, knowing Taggart was behind her. Their badges had flapped in the light breeze outside as they walk-ran with Neil to make it in. They weren't in Mission Control but five minutes and Kurt, Sarah, and Angela met up with them. None of them spoke. All of them knew why they were all there. It was a surprise that JSC Security hadn't been asspains to any of them.

Unlike visitors- or non-mission personnel- they did not go back to the enclosed booth where families could sit and watch. They were out of the way, but they were still part of it all.

It all seemed like a dream as they watched the screen. Without moving, they watched the last of the video feed from inside 'Columbia'; saw astronauts in their orange suits and helmets bracing for the fiery re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere. Would have to endure it to come back to those they loved. Seven faces never to be seen alive again. Seven families who would experience the worst, possible grief anybody in the Agency could deal with.

Mali stood next to a console and put her arm on it. The gesture was far from a casual one. She just felt like bracing herself. She'd watched the 'landing'- in the original timestream- from her old apartment back at the Cape. The 'Network' had been very casual about the whole affair. It barely merited any regard. She watched- as a robot would- without real feeling for the astronauts, or empathy for those who would be left behind and grieving. Saw the vapor-trails- many of them- instead of the unified one there should have been. Watched and felt **nothing**.

None of the six spoke as their eyes watched the screens and the communications- and feed- from 'Columbia' went into the minutes of normal, communication blackout. They seemed to take a collective breath. Took it while everyone else thought nothing was wrong.

_May peace live forever for each of you. May worry, want, and sadness depart from each of you. May all of you live forever in the smiles of your children, the love of your families, and the memories of all. You came back as a bird does: to the safety of a home. Now, however, your spirits can fly. Unfettered of its shell, and free._

Mali felt a hand on her shoulder and looked back up to the screen. The same words that had gone through her mind had been what the 'Network' couldn't control the first time around. They sure as hell controlled none of it now. Then looked back and saw Sarah just behind her. They both exchanged looks, before going back to the screen where a patch of blue sky seemed unchanging.

The blackout period passed and conversations seemed by-the-book Seconds turned into minutes and anxiety grew. The six watched the screen and saw, with a sickening feeling, the meteoric streaks that blazed white across the sky. Not many, but enough to say that there were none now who would ever return from their flight into space. Deadlines came..and went. No Shuttle emerged from the blue. The people at the Cape would be left forever waiting.

"_**Columbia**_, Houston. Comm check...."

The impersonal voice echoed throughout Mission Control. It sent a shudder through more than a few.

Chuck Taggart looked at the screen with the sort of resignation that he never liked to have. Ultimately, what could any of them had done? Each of them would have been labeled as crazy and misguided. Not a one of them was capable of changing Hodge's mind. Even the thought of trying to contact the crew would have met with banishment from NASA. The demise of 'Columbia' was a no-win situation of the worst kind.

He saw Sarah put her hand on Mali's shoulder. Knew it should have been he, but he knew how that would get viewed. There would also be a time to bring things out openly. The truth was, he would never give up Mali. He was- if he was ever sure about anything- certain that Paige [or something beyond his knowing] had guided him to her. Not that he bought much of the line of the souls of the departed guiding the living. He honestly had to wonder if, as awful as it might be, that perhaps Paige was better off this way. The Synths would never get to her again.

Cynthia Hodge had seen the six of them in the Control Center; grouped, as usual, together.

She couldn't forbid astronauts coming in to watch a Shuttle return. Nor had any edict been put out about friends or family coming with them to watch. What did surprise her was how their faces paled when the group saw the white streaks across blue sky on the screen. Saw Flynn and Perry bow their heads.

Taggart's 'group' almost seemed to know before anybody in the rest of the Agency knew. Hodge felt the sickening feeling of a Shuttle- and its entire crew- burnt up on re-entry. Knew that her head would roll.

The experts had concurred with her, days ago. There was no danger from the foam that had broken off the fuel tanks upon launch. They supposed that the damage had been very minor. Had told the crew there was no need to do an EVA to ascertain the condition of the 'Columbia's' tiles.

They had been woefully wrong. Hodge was the most-responsible of them all for not erring on the side of safety and prudence. To have not ordered that vital EVA. She was partially responsible for the loss of seven lives. It was not something that even the Cadre would forget.

She turned her face back to the screens a moment. Before commencing the procedures that needed to be employed for a 'catastrophic failure'.

The Odyssey 6 seemed to come back to motion after a few more minutes.

"Let's get out of here. I feel sick."

Angela commented. Her words summed up how they all were starting to feel. It was aside from the fact that her nascent pregnancy influenced her body. She needed to get an abortion and very soon. It was just that finding the time was damn near to impossible.

Mali looked back at Sarah, then Kurt. She reached to briefly squeeze Sarah's hand before they turned to leave. A silent thank-you. There was no point for any of them hanging around to find out what had happened. They all knew the cause. The Shuttle program would go on a hiatus until 2005. Blame would be leveled, jobs lost, and the safety of the vessels would be improved yet again.

She took a last look back at the screens, Chuck's hand lightly touched her back as they walked out.

* * *

John Hutchins listened to the phone ring as he looked out at the Atlanta skyline. His ear felt like cauliflower, but the calls were winding down now. He hadn't spoken to Larry 'Spud' Murphy in years. Of the entire group, only Murphy and one other remained to be contacted.

Merchant's parents had set the Wake for Tuesday and funeral for Wednesday. It would be held at Fort Bayard National Cemetary in New Mexico.

Seth would have a good turnout, all things considered.

Hutchins shifted his feet and heard the phone pick up. A female voice came over the other end. It was older, but he couldn't recall if it was Gina's voice.

"Hello?"

"Good afternoon, ma'am. May I please speak with Sgt. Lawrence Murphy?"

"And who is this?"

"Staff Sgt. John Hutchins. I served with Sgt. Murphy during Desert Storm."

"One minute."

John heard the receiver get muffled by a hand. Picked up what the woman was saying pretty clearly.

"Honey, some Army guy for you, named Hutchins."

He heard a small flurry of activity before the line cleared and a gruff voice came into his ear. Hutchins couldn't help but smile at it.

"What the fuck do you want, loser?!"

"Eat me."

"Fuck you. I don't get into snacking."

"Said the midget. How ya doing, Larry?"

"Watching the news. The Shuttle burnt up this morning."

Hutchins' eyes went bigger.

"No shit?"

"Not one bit. I thought of Flynn and Carter. Don't think either of them went up there this time."

John held his breath. He needed to ask about Flynn too. He'd gotten the response that she lived up in Washington State.

"The Major left NASA, last I heard. Listen, reason I called- Merchant is dead. Got offed. Wake and funeral is in New Mexico, Tuesday and Wednesday. I know its short-notice and a flight from Ann Arbor is a bitch for you. I'm calling everybody, for obvious reasons."

"Any word on who offed him?"

"Cops are mum about it. I'd like to snoop his condo with Scott, when he gets in. He lives in Resaca, so I'm hoping we can do it before booking out of town."

"Seth's body already gone?"

"Yeah, his folks retired to Silver City. Its right outside of Fort Bayard. He's being buried there, instead of Arlington. New restrictions now- officers, exemplary, or active service only. They got hopper planes that fly out of El Paso or Albuquerque to get to Silver City."

Flynn came to Hutchins' mind as he switched ears.

"Listen, you wouldn't have Flynn's number, would you?"

"Last direct one is he NASA one. The Florida one, I think."

"No. I'd need the one for her folks' place in Washington State."

"They're dead, aren't they?"

"Still are."

"You try Bragg? I'm sure they got her current. Maybe even NASA would still know."

"I'll give Bragg a shot. I tried NASA in Houston; bunch of nasty pricks. Its all post-9/11 shit there now. The civies are fucking paranoid anyway."

"Yeah, try ol' Blackie. He still should be in Personnel. He'd have a line on Flynn, if anybody would."

"You think you can make it?"

"Hell yeah. Have to get my uniform out of the mothballs. I hope it covers my fucking gut."

"Like you were ever as thin as your dick."

"Fuck you."

"You wish. Say, how's Gina? That wasn't her, was it?"

"No. I got booted three years ago. Mary's her name now. We've been steady since."

"Sorry to hear that."

"I'm not. Gina was an unfaithful cunt. She was stringing and banging two guys when I got back from Europe. I'm glad her ass is gone anyway. Bottomless money-waster."

"Look, I got to call Bragg about Major Flynn. Before they roll up the shit and play dead for the rest of the weekend. By the way, the gang's staying at the Holiday Inn in Silver City."

"Gotcha. See you Tuesday then."

"Later."

Hutchins closed his cell. He'd figured on having to call Bragg about Flynn. She'd always been battling demons too much to stay in touch with any of them. Being in NASA didn't help either. There was more bullshit there than in many agencies.

He didn't imagine that she be happy to see Col. Davis either. The man had never forgiven her for not wanting to be his 'pincushion'. Unfortunately, he was still the group's CO, and always would be. Even if shit like getting the gang together was dumped on Hutchins. Flynn had been the unit's primo shot. There could never be a gathering without both Davis and her there.

* * *

She had heard Angela barfing in the bathroom earlier, before they left the JSC to go to the Canary to sort things out. Mali had seen Angela's hue and knew she wasn't lying about being sick. However, the woman's complexion was not that of somebody truly ill.

Angela must have picked up on it, because when they left the Canary, she took Mali aside from the rest. Under the pretense of needing to 'ask you something'. Seemed ill-at-ease with having the rest waiting by their cars.

Angela Perry honestly didn't know who else to trust. Sarah had Corey and was obviously Christian. Most of them would never, ever counsel an abortion. Men like Chuck, Kurt, and Neil were...males. Mali, of anybody of the group, seemed to be the one who might help her. She sure as shit didn't want to go to family or anybody else; they all would pass judgment on her actions.

So now, she faced Flynn. All the smack she'd spoken about Flynn's being so close to Taggart was staring her in the face and daring her to forget.

She'd taken the risk and had spoken about her condition. Now she ended it and would await the reply.

"I don't know who else to go to."

Mali put a hand on her shoulder. She looked into Perry's eyes; the woman was, bluntly put, scared.

"Make the appointment. You'll be recovered in a few days. Don't worry about getting to and from."

"I'd appreciate it."

"Been there, done that."

Mali smiled. Hell yes, she'd gone through it. It might have been indirectly, but Flynn had come close to needing an abortion on her own once. Before she had the surgery that forever remedied the whole affair. Never would she be at the mercy of her body when there was duty to discharge.

She'd taken a few of her soldier-sisters in to have abortions and knew they would have gladly done the same for her. She saw Perry weakly smile back at her.

"Thanks, Mali."

"Don't mention it."

They all went back to their cars and took off in their own directions. Neil left with Kurt to do some work at Kurt's place. It left Mali and Taggart driving off together. Sarah had to high-tail back to KNBS to report on the demise of the 'Columbia'.

"What was that about?"

Chuck asked, bringing to Mustang to life. Had watched the exchange. Knew of the 'hubub' about what Angela had mentioned about Mali.

"Angela just wanted to ask me some privately."

"Looked serious."

Chuck's eyes looked to the clear road ahead. Leaving the JSC there was nothing. Going in, the road was jammed. Mali putting her hand on Angela's shoulder had already said much. Whatever it was, it was not trivial.

"Not really. She just wanted to know something. She just wasn't sure if I'd take it alright."

Mali didn't know if that would float. She felt Taggart's free hand grip hers while the other drove.

"I'm glad you're there for her."

"Any reason I shouldn't be?"

"You know of the shit that has gotten talked?"

He'd heard, from Neil, what Angela had been saying about Mali. Heard things all too well.

"**Shit** doesn't count. **Truth** does. I listen to **truth** and ignore **shit**."

Taggart looked at her and smiled.

"Still want to head for the hills?"

"Yeah. I'm sick of what's happened today already. Time later to be sad. Anyway, I'd like to see that fishing spot you always are talking about. Lake Dallas, wasn't it?"

"Sure you want to? We might have to stay tonight for the 'submarine races'."

Chuck smiled the grin that had wooed so many females and looked at her.

"It'd be the shit if they were diesel boats, wouldn't it?"

Mali retorted, and felt Taggart punch the gas. Still held her hand tight.

The Mustang cut a fast trip back home to grab some things. It left the current world behind in a gust of wind.

* * *

Angela thought it might have been Kurt at her door.

She still felt like shit, but pulled on jeans and a sweater anyway. Wondered why he would come over when all he needed to do was call. Her mind had a fleeting thought that it might be Enrique Pena, but he was out West for Spring Training. He'd left a terse email about whether she was coming to see him, or not.

Truth told, she didn't feel like seeing anybody at the present time. She would make the phone call on Monday to the Clinic. She'd called over at Chuck's to talk to her but Neil told her that Mali and he had taken off to Lake Dallas for the rest of the weekend. Might be back late Sunday. The more Angela thought about it, the more it would have to be Sunday. Mali was in training for Expedition 8 and there was very little time off from something like that.

Whatever bad feelings she had about Mali were going away. She saw the new closeness between Flynn and her Commander. She'd seen Chuck Taggart's many moods before, but nothing compared to the way he looked at Mali when they were at the Canary.

Angela couldn't fault the man for finding somebody like Flynn after Paige died.

The doorbell chimed again.

"Just a minute!"

Angela shouted, before she bashed her bare foot on a wall corner. She held back the unexpected pain. Her hand undid the chain, then the deadbolt, then doorknob.

Senator Perry, her father, stood there when she opened the door. To say that she was taken aback was putting things politely.

"Didn't want to open the door for your old man?"

Perry tried to sound affable as he saw his daughter look at him. Like so much of him, it was pure facade.

"Come in, Dad. I hadn't expected you."

"You're looking rumpled. You got company? Or did you just get up?"

Perry said, but it almost got taken as mild interrogation. Walked inside as she shut the door.

"I haven't been feeling well. I just wanted to take a nap."

She watched her father look a round a bit, before turning to look at her.

"I have something to request of you. I know you don't seem to care for me since...our last meeting. I do care about you, though. I hope you will take my advice seriously."

"And what might it be?"

Perry bit his lip and looked hard at her.

"Stay away from Taggart, Flynn, and the rest of your 'friends'. Your actions are making things hard for your continued presence with the Agency."

"What in hell?"

Angela sputtered, disbelieving that her father would have this sort of audacity.

"Are you getting your fingers in the wrong, damn pies, Dad?!"

"You are getting _implicated_, Angela! Your being such is reflecting on me!"

"So this is what its about! YOUR damned image! I have done nothing but my best for NASA and now you threaten me with my being ousted?"

"Daughter, you don't know how damned close you came to being taken away! If you were, it would have been permanently!"

The intimation of her being taken away- to her death- hung in the air between them.

"I'd like to know why in hell you are threatening me or my friends! It seems you are more scared of what you can't control than with what you can! Tell me, DAD, is the Cadre eyeballing YOU the wrong way now?"

Angela tried hard to not shout, or be angry. It was proving very, very hard.

"You really want to sink yourself, along with Flynn and Taggart? If you really want that, I can't prevent you from clusterfucking your career! I just wanted you to be away from what will happen to them."

"And what exactly is going to happen to them?! Is your little group getting a 'hit list' together?"

Angela watched her father turn away. She felt like she'd come damn close to what her father was trying to say...and hide. Tried very hard to not show it.

"You know damn well what would happen if **that** goes down!"

Perry looked at her with a fading smile.

"Accidents happen every day, Angela."

Angela watched her father leave without a further word. The sentence was not lost on her as he left and quietly shut the door behind him. She might feel like shit, but she still wanted to get over to Kurt's immediately. To speak over the phone would tip off the Synths about what she'd heard. They would gladly change their plans to make it harder. She knew that from when she'd been kidnapped.

* * *

Neil turned away from the computer screen and rubbed his eyes.

The load of homework definitely stank, but not enough to forgo it in favor of doing teenage shit with Holly. If there was any truth in his affairs it was that Neil Taggart would never be 17 again. Even trying to be what he once was had no value for him.

He put the completed copies from his printer into his folder and knew the marks he'd get on them. Getting into NASA was a priority to him now. He wanted the opportunity, the chance to grow beyond even what he'd done before. He'd wasted so much time _being_ stupid- and _doing_ stupid- that it'd taken a hell of an effort just to make astronaut. There was no question that he would be a part of the 'Odyssey' crew, but he wanted to expand beyond that; if indeed the future he'd- that they'd- known wouldn't be allowed to repeat itself.

Neil yawned and did his usual, cursory check of the 'scanner' for Synth activity. As before, it indicated practically nothing- save two blurbs of nonsense stuff. He did open and check them, but it revealed nothing of usefulness. He wound up shutting down his computer and going downstairs to see what was decent in the freezer and what was good on the tube for the night.

* * *

**Lake Dallas, Texas- Late Afternoon, February 1****st**

"You think they felt anything?"

Chuck Taggart said, looking up into blue sky. The boat slightly rocked beneath. There were only gentle ripples on the lake's surface today. His blue eyes searched for what had come back to Earth hours before. Come down NOT in the way astronauts- or anybody around them- ever wanted to see.

Mali looked out across the surface of the water. Her voice came out almost clinical in tone. Not that she didn't feel anything. Perhaps more because she was feeling and it was sinking into her.

"Between reentry heating, friction, the speed of descent...I don't think so. It had to be almost instantaneous. God, I would hope it could be."

They both sat quietly.

No astronaut liked to think about the 'bad stuff'. There was the need to always look at things rationally, observe impartially, and always keep your emotions in-check. Astronauts seldom brought up the 'oh shit' factor.

Maybe it was because Chuck and Mali were in the middle of a lake, in a boat, and nobody was on the lake- aside from them- today.

Mali watched the line of her pole as it danced a lazy wave in the water. After a moment, reached into the small cooler between them and drew out a can of Miller. Tabbing it open, she looked toward the shoreline a moment. Thought she had heard something, but saw nothing.

"I never did ask you what you really did in the Army."

Taggart looked over at her, then drew out his own can of beer.

"Aside from the long-distance blowing of somebody's brains out and making the world safe for everybody else?"

Mali shook her head. It was the inevitable reaction of somebody who, despite their best effort, wasn't fond of trying to make people understand why she would do what she had. She looked at her can of beer. Took another pull from it.

"You do know of my comms work. I also have a thing for flying choppers, on occasion."

Taggart smiled. Looked at her serious face.

"So it comes out, at last. I was wondering about how a 'ground-crawler' could get into NASA."

Mali took his gentle teasing in stride.

"NASA is NOT the sole province of the Squids, Air Farce, and Jarrines. Us Army folks do have our skills too."

"_Air Farce_. Thanks much."

"Nothin' but love for ya."

Taggart set his pole and turned to her.

"What'd you train in?"

"Being as it was the age of dinosaurs, I trained in Hueys. Back in the mid-80s , of course. It was a fall-back if my shooting abilities went south, or weren't deemed good enough. I have racked up about 250 hours, most was done in the Med. I am quite guilty of doing 'canyon running' every so often. Either with Blackhawks or Apaches, take your pick."

"Ah, so the T-38s are too much?"

Mali looked at him.

"No, Jest-o-Rama, they aren't 'too much'. I just prefer blasting through canyons at high rates of speed to get to nice, secluded spots with my buds so the party can't be observed by higher-ranked twits back at base. By the way, choppers can land on a dime and don't need highly-visible runways jet-jockeys do- thank you very much."

"I can't imagine that was officially approved."

Taggart said, clearly amused. Mali's dry wit, of which he'd heard much about at NASA, was now present.

"_Training_, my dear. All _Flight Training _. Of course, the newbies sat in back. Can't have them learning the wrong way, now. You did need the right people with you, though."

"Naturally."

Taggart said, drinking more of his beer.

"You and Neil got free, chopper rides at Bliss."

"All official rides. We had no idea the Plastics took you out to Arizona."

"The Plastics have a major _hive_ there. No doubt, that was the destination, before their untimely 'breakdown'. They didn't seem to care for- as Kurt put it- my _B.O._"

"Kurt has his uses."

Taggart looked off into space.

"Offhand, I can't recall a damn one of them."

"Drink more beer. It lubricates the mind. You'll find more."

Mali used her mock-authority tone, then laughed.

"You love him, don't hide it."

Taggart was about to say something when he heard a buzz coming from inside Mali's jacket.

Watched her pull out a pager and looked at the number. Had the immediate thought that the thing must have been her only, real concession to modern technology.

He was still coaxing her to get a cell phone.

"Who is it?'

Mali knew better than to openly say. There were things for Taggart to know that still had to be revealed. They might be intimate now, but not so completely. Not with who she was and what she'd done. She was not Paige. Nor was she about to divulge things that might be used, later, against her or those she loved.

"Fort Bragg."

She said simply and stored the number in her mind.

"Good or bad?"

"Don't know. Its been years since anybody called from there. I'll call when we get back to the motel."

Mali tucked the pager back inside her jacket. Seeing 'Blackie' Johnson's number didn't bode well. Something must have come up with the old crew. If anything were to happen, 'Blackie' was the fall-back for contacts.

* * *

**Houston**

The abandoned warehouse still resided on an old piece of Navy-owned property. It now served as the interim location for Cadre meetings. It had seen enormous amounts of cleaning, then more precise _cleaning_. No chance could be taken of the Synths having devices to listen in/view any matters being discussed.

Pierce, Reddling, Perry, and Hodge sat around the table. Per custom, they were bickering back and forth. The difference today was that it had a distinct edge to it. The 'Columbia' tragedy was verging on not being a true 'accident'. The public, and President, would be given the sanitized version. The real version would be for others not so gifted with spreading such things far and wide. A fifth person, Doctor Tower, was in the process of giving his report. He stood before all of them.

General Pierce was inclined more to let the other three argue. He watched them much as a scientist would watch the behaviors of lab rats. He knew what was getting ready to go down. The unfortunate thing was in that if things were stopped prematurely, this August and tiny group would never get the hint about the true nature of the Cadre's enemy.

The Cadre was still operating on the premise that the Synths were basically drones and incapable of independent thought away from everyone else. All of the perceptions were about to change in a very-ugly way. Pierce was likely among the first to see it.

"What I'm saying is that the Synthetics are showing a marked increase in numbers. We simply don't have enough 'vaccine' to get out and innoculate everybody who really needs it. It is also highly experimental at this time. We were lucky that Flynn took things as well as she did. Her reaction was comparatively mild compared to other cases."

The fact that Malinda Flynn had been used as a 'test subject' had been discretely hushed from the patient herself. So long as it was not any of them having their feet put to the fire, ignoring another's right to full knowledge of what was being done to them was condoned.

Hodge snorted.

"Mild, when the others **died**."

"The vaccine does a fundamental change in human chemistry, Director. There are always side-effects with such things."

"I'm afraid the good doctor is correct. The Synths are showing a marked increase in numbers. Chicago has expanded ten hives, New York now has twenty-one, and there is even a hive that has been reported to be in Anchorage, Alaska."

Reddling looked at Pierce, a bit disgruntled that the Army general had nothing to impart.

"Then there is the Super-Hive in Arizona. Along with the fact- old as it is- that there is no love lost between the Synthetics and some in NASA for their ilk."

Hodge looked at Pierce. Equally miffed at his silence. The man was holding back and it was putting them all on edge.

"We've had no reports of activity for the past, few weeks. Not since the incident in Arizona."

"Don't speak too soon, Director Hodge."

Pierce looked at Perry, who then looked away with some quickness. Pierce had heard 'things' about the esteemed Congressman from Texas. The general just wasn't sure if he should act on it yet.

"I don't think we should get lax. The Synths are regrouping."

"Regrouping? For what, general? War, or a damn tea party?"

Perry said, trying to come off witty- at Pierce's expense. Why he would even bother was not known.

The general's laserlike eyes bored into the cocky, overbearing man. A lot of good people would soon have to die...

"They are regrouping for an attack."

The statement rattled the rest. Reddling sat up.

"You have proof of this?"

"The traffic is indicating some activity, Congressman. We've not been able to clean it to the point of clear intent. They are on the move, though."

"**They** are always _on the move_, general."

Hodge said. Dismissively.

"They have seemed to have toned down on Taggart's group as well."

"The threat on Major Flynn's life seems to be working."

Perry agreed, as much as Pierce might not have liked it. The fact that Taggart and his people stirred shit brought much of this to pass. Now that they were under this pall, the Cadre had things relatively easy. Or were things getting too easy?

"I would be inclined to an exchange of information with Taggart's group. Even a _invitation_ to some of them."

Pierce knew the reaction and steeled himself for it. He'd wanted to bring it up for a while.

"Are you insane?! You want to bring them into the Cadre?! Taggart's a damned menace!"

Hodge snarled.

"You were the man who, months ago, proposed kidnaping him!"

"I have another view. In the grand scheme, Madam Director, he simply hasn't bought into your plans and you openly view him as 'obsolete'. He's only a menace because **you** haven't given him- or his group- cause to attempt viewing you otherwise. You've certainly made that plain by not keeping him around NASA. At least, not for any **real** work."

Pierce remarked acidly, watched Hodge shift in her chair and look away. She had always been weak in her loathing of Ed Scrivens and anybody who had been friends with him. She nearly singlehandedly drove all his friends from the Agency. All of them except, most notably, Charles Taggart. That she now dealt with a veteran astronaut like he was a pariah was no secret.

"Who of their group, then, would you like brought aboard?"

Reddling asked, sitting back in his chair. Seemed to warm to the proposal.

"Taggart, Flynn, and your daughter, Senator Perry. The rest would be subject to more _scrutiny_."

Pierce eyed Hodge.

"Perhaps even- eventually- a casual offer to Taggart's remaining son? To ask him to join NASA? You must admit that he's a smart boy to be able to work computers for files- even NASA ones."

Both Hodge and Perry looked fit to be tied. Reddling was the only one who seemed to accept any of it. The doctor, who was top-level cleared, listened to all without comment. Nor did he have the ability to.

"I'll take the idea further up. It has merit. If it is accepted, it WILL get carried out. Without delay."

Reddling cautioned them all. The idea that the 'Taggart group' would become possible _cannon-fodder_ entered his mind too. So long as it wasn't his own self. He turned to Hodge.

"If I might offer a friendly word of advice: get Taggart back to work. Have him EARN his paycheck again, Madam Director."

If anybody had been looking at Pierce they would have seen his relief at the statement.

* * *

**Evening-**

The shower was running as Mali sat on the bed.

Her head was a little hazy from drinking beer, but not much. Certainly not enough to not comprehend what Blackie was saying to her. Her mind processed that Merchant had been murdered, along with his girlfriend. The wake was Tuesday and funeral was on Wednesday. The burial would be at Fort Bayard. She knew there would be more answers when she got there.

She scrunched her shoulder to the receiver again as she wrote on a pad. Barely noted the shower had stopped. Was more intent on listening to Blackie's voice.

"Where's the group meeting up at?"

"Holiday Inn, Silver City."

"Any assigned rooms, or just get it when you get there?"

"I can put in a reservation, Ma'am."

"You got the time, please do it."

Mali saw Taggart emerge with a towel about his waist. Another towel was about his neck. He had a small paunch. Then again, most of them did. He came up and looked at what she'd written on the pad in her short, sharp scrawl. The towel rubbed his wet hair a moment. His eyes were watching her.

"How many?"

Blackie queried.

"Make it for a definite 'one'."

Mali looked up at the still-damp Chuck and smiled. He responded by running his fingers through her hair. Tore her eyes from him to conclude business with her former sergeant.

"Listen, if that's all, I gotta book. Will you be there, or do they got you tied up?"

"Tied up? Bragg needs my expertise to save them from idiots."

"You're a good man, Sgt. You'll be missed. Thanks much for the notice."

"Do me a favor from now on- We don't hate you. So would you PLEASE, with a damn cherry on top, let us KNOW when you get a new address. Hmmm?"

"Dear Sgt-Gone-Demanding-Bastard, sure thing."

Mali grinned.

"Take care of yourself, Black."

"You too, Sir. Head up, eyes open."

"Back at ya. Bye."

Mali hung up and saw Taggart's naked butt as he unwrapped the towel, before he pulled on boxers and a pair of jeans.

"Damn! Fine, fucking scenery! A bit fleeting, though."

"I can remedy that, if you want."

"No. Have to feed a growing boy before the restaurants shut on a Saturday night. Besides, I got to get in a wash myself. If there's enough hot water left in this fleabag joint."

Mali got up and walked to him. Put her nose against his neck. The scent of soap and skin was nice.

He pulled her against him, his arms pinned her to his waist.

"Need help?"

Taggart said, before kissing her soundly.

Mali enjoyed it a moment, before breaking it off. Brought a hand up to ruffle his hair the way he did hers. Kissed his forehead.

"No. Your rumbling stomach is telling me that it would be better to get it fueled up first."

She pecked him again and he loosened his arms. Watched her go into the bathroom, still steaming from what had been a very hot shower.

Taggart toweled his hair and glanced at the pad.

"What did your friend want?"

"One of the guys in my unit got offed. I have a funeral to attend."

"You think Hodge will give you time-off for that?"

Taggart wondered at her precise, cold assessment. Then again, the ability to detach was- unfortunately- a vital one.

"Bitch has no choice, I'm afraid. My presence is required. At least, that is the way it'll sound. I'm doing so damned much catch-up now that a little more won't hurt."

"Want company?"

"I didn't want to speak for you, but if you want to. It's up to you. It's a military affair, though. If you choose to attend."

"You just want to see me in my uniform."

Mali peeked through the door. She gave a sly grin.

"Reading my mind is a very bad habit, Commander. Stop it right now."

Taggart could only smile back as Mali shut the door again.

* * *

General Pierce listened impassively to the latest report.

The cell phone he held to his ear was of a type the civilian sector would never see; the type that was impervious to being hacked or having its transmissions intercepted With the Synths, 9/11, and now the Columbia, things were getting ever more dangerous.

He could watch the progression of shadows as his car went north to Dallas and day settled into night.

"Sir, we have also intercepted a transmission from one Sgt. Geoffrey Johnson at Fort Bragg to Major Malinda Flynn. It was stamped as today, at 1624 Hours."

"Where was the call placed to?"

"Lake Dallas, Texas. The number has come up as the 'Tumbleweed Motel'."

"What was the content?"

"A military funeral of a Sgt. Merchant. Further probing discovered a Sgt. Seth Merchant, Ranger Regiment. It seems he was killed a few days ago."

"Killed? Active-duty?"

"No, Sir. Sgt. Merchant was retired nearly ten years. Last served in Desert Storm. He was employed with Aerodyne Aerospace out of Atlanta. He was traced to have been part of Major Flynn's unit, though it was commanded by a Col. Leonard Davis."

"What was the rest?"

"Funeral arrangements; spoke of the hotel the group would be staying at. It seems all members of that unit will attend, with the exception of one or two. The wake will be at a funeral home in Silver City, New Mexico. The burial will be at Fort Bayard National Cemetary this Wednesday. "

Pierce thought a moment. A day shy of the impending, Columbia Memorial in Washington D.C. .

"Any plans regarding Major Flynn's means of travel mentioned?"

"No, Sir. Would you like me to inform you?"

"No need. Do keep me informed of any new developments regarding the other 'contacts'. I mean **anything**, Lieutenant.."

"Yessir."

Pierce turned off his cell and thought for a few minutes, as more of the north Texas landscape went past.

* * *

**Sunday Night-**

The olive-green uniform lay on the bed. Its gold oak leaves glistening and bars of service ribbons giving a splash of color to the right side over the heart. It had seen quite a bit of a lint brush earlier. A lighter melted off stray threads. Unlike many who wore a uniform, Flynn's uniform was almost perfect in fit and condition. Nearly as perfect any the Arlington Tomb Guards would ever wear. It had always been something she took a pride in and- unlike so many others- her service made it stand out. This was in contrast to many who let themselves- and their uniforms- go too long.

She was kneeling and polishing the combat infantryman badge with a cloth when Taggart came in. The smell of Brasso hung in the air faintly. Mark's room had turned into a sort of office with the change in their relationship.

He looked down at the mirror-shined jump boots and reached to pick up her Ranger beret with its badge. Taggart honestly didn't know of any woman who had ever made it through the Rangers. A few had gone through 'Airborne' training, but not the Rangers. At least, not to the point of graduating. He still wondered how in hell she had pulled it off. How she ever would get clearance to go into combat zones to do the work she knew so well. HAD gotten such clearance in the past. It was a reminder about how little he still knew of her past.

Taggart had been a test pilot. It was a very normal profession for a man. Damn few women could ever cut the mark to become one, though he'd known plenty of very capable, women pilots. He even met a few female, nuclear physicists when he was in college.

None of those women had gotten to where Mali found herself. Very few achieved, or could, what she had done in roughly fifteen years. Military sniper was not the MOS carried by women, in general.

"Got a message from the Center. Hodge wants to put me to work training newbies, starting tomorrow."

"I kinda figured. Neil had mentioned the message left."

Mali stood up and critically eyeballed her uniform, then looked at him.

"You alright?"

Taggart hadn't wanted to admit a damn thing as being wrong. Problem was, he could not. Not now.

"Hodge is not going to take it well. You know she could easily boot you from any further missions."

"She forced it on me, Chuck. She assigned me to 'Expedition 8'. What astronaut, anyway, would refuse an assignment to prime crew, if its given? I am on record as having expressed my concerns about readiness. She still approved my being scheduled. She knew I'd been out of the loop for months."

Mali looked back at her uniform and shook her head.

"Hodge knows I won't be there tomorrow, anyway. General Pierce has arranged a flight for me to Bliss, early tomorrow morning. Wants a meeting. Afterwards, there's a direct jump to Fort Bayard."

"When did this come through?"

"It was on my computer this afternoon, after we got back."

Taggart was honestly puzzled.

Pierce was a stalwart Cadre member. To seemingly take such interest in them- and in Mali- made him cringe. Pierce was hiding something.

"I'd think he isn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart."

Mali looked at Chuck.

She knew the history he had with the Cadre. It had never been a happy one. Mali wasn't inclined to not allow Pierce to have his say- whatever that might be.

"If he wants to speak, I'll listen. I'm inclined to think that the Cadre might be fracturing, in its own way. If I can find out how its splitting, there might be.._possibilities_ there. Especially in dealings with the Plastics and Sentients."

"Is Pierce flying you back?"

"Military transport, Thursday morning. I'm hoping to be back by Noon."

Mali caught his eye and smiled. It faded a little.

"I won't be able to catch enough time to get to Washington for the Memorial. Besides, I haven't gotten the happy call from NASA to attend."

Chuck put her Ranger beret back down on the desk. Angela would be there with him. He would have liked for Mali to be beside him anyway.

"I'll drop you off. I have to be at Johnson early."

Mali walked up to him. Put her arms about his waist. Knew he was concerned, even anxious.

"Hey, she's got you back to work. I'd hate to think of a flyboy not being allowed to fly anymore. It's a step to getting back up there. Besides, one of these days, I'd like to have a handsome astronaut coming through the ISS main hatch to see me."

"Even if he's a little 'long in the tooth'?"

"I've always liked seasoned **men**. Not boys."

Taggart looked at her. The thought of her winding up as an ISS Commander was not too far-fetched. The only thing was with the galactic radiation that made such extended stays subject to a certain termination point for future spaceflight. Once the 'life dose' was reached, an astronaut could never go up again. No matter how much they tried, or pleaded. Chuck knew that he was already near his. Being grounded for exposure was looming.

"I can fit that."

"You know you do."

Mali said, before they kissed. Something neither of them were tired of.

* * *

**Silver City, New Mexico**

Perhaps the most-numerous of this semi-desert town were the retirees who flocked to live in the dry, mostly warm climate. Many had come from larger, more-bustling places. Like so much of New Mexico, military retirees were the most common aspect of the population here. They sought to live in peace and where things were not too expensive.

Most residents of Silver City had pensions and retirement plans to draw from, in addition to monthly social security checks. They had done their time, served their Nation, and desired nothing more than peace. It was left to the younger people to earn their way to what these elderly now enjoyed.

There was a whole sub-strata of 'service employees' here: the waitress, the mechanic, the cashier, the cook at the fast food joint down the way. A true sign of 'civilization was the huge 'Wal-Mart' in town. There were also 'antique' shops, bars and others things to interest all comers. Few would have ever guessed that this economic bubble might collapse one day. Living was now and this sub-strata lent its own sense of security to Silver City's aged population.

The Holiday Inn was built at a time when most of its rooms could look out over desert while you swam in its pool. Perhaps take in the sight of a loping coyote while you stood in your room and brushed your teeth.

The view was quite changed now. Sprawl and condo communities robbed the locale of its former charm. It seemed that the only place they would never build would be on sheer cliff faces or mountain peaks. The water table had dropped precipitously in past years with the development.

Of all the new faces in town, the arrival of a group of far-younger folks drew no serious consideration. They came and blended in with the rest. Nobody could see them as anything but the transient population Silver City normally saw. Or maybe they were tourists; here to look around, take in some Old West doings, then leave for sunny Arizona and California.

The only thing that might have seemed strange is that they were curiously lacking in emotions. Their faces were not very expressive. On some counts, they even seemed menacing. Still, not the type who would draw attention, unless they wanted it.

They came in, found places to stay, spent money, had their own cars and shut themselves away.

When a few had applied for, and gotten, jobs at the Holiday Inn they were the advance party of others of their kind. True to their mission, they stayed low and quiet. They waited as the hotel saw the trickle of guests coming to stay for a couple days. Watched others be affable and gracious. Assigned rooms to the visitors and took luggage up to rooms.

Those that watched readied themselves for what was to be done soon.

* * *

**Monday, February 3****rd****, 2003**

She hadn't expected to return to Fort Bliss so soon.

The news of the memorial service for the seven crewmembers of the Columbia had been definitely set to February 6th. It would be held at the National Cathedral in Washington. It would be attended by the President and damn few others would even get near -without proper clearance- to even be on the grounds.

The phone call to Chuck only specified him. Angela had received a similar one. Not that Mali minded. She never expected to get invited anyway. Her formal address was last in Washington State, not Houston.

Mali hadn't known how attached Chuck was to her until he'd pressed a brand-new cell phone into her hand. They were standing outside the entrance to the airfield. It almost felt like some scene out of an old movie. The only thing that kept it from being drawn out was the fact he had to hop over to the JSC to begin his tenure as a 'teacher' to _newbienauts _.

"I know you hate the damn things, but take it anyway. Just this once."

Mali refrained from playfully chiding him about being overprotective. She slipped the cell phone into one of her uniform pockets. No guarantee she would use it. She was touched that he wanted to keep in touch with her.

"I'll be back on Thursday. Let me know when you get back into town."

"Have a good flight."

"You too. Say 'hi' to Angela for me."

Mali turned and walked away, pulling her carry-on behind her. Looking almost like she was going off for a deployment. She never saw the momentary look of sadness that flickered across Taggart's features. Sure as hell didn't know if she could bear it, if she had.

The hop from Houston to El Paso was only about forty-five minutes. She was the only officer on board the C-140 Transport. The other twelve were composed of two sergeants and twelve enlisteds going to Bliss for advanced training.

Per custom, she was as distant from them as they were to her.

After landing, she was whisked away to her meeting with General Pierce at the Base Commander's office. The word of marching soldiers and other men going about their duties felt comfortable to her. There were things about the Army that she missed. Being on base was one of them. The outside world seldom ever intruded here.

When she was finally led into the BC's office, she saw the General and Colonel Tyes quietly talking. They both turned to her and she came to attention. Snapping a salute, she waited until it was returned.

"Sir, Major Flynn reporting as requested."

"Good morning, Major."

Pierce said, then looked at Col. Tyes.

"Colonel, would you please leave us?"

"Certainly, Sir."

Tyes turned to leave, looking at Flynn in glancing before exiting. The door shut quietly behind him.

Pierce watched the door shut, as Mali removed her beret and tucked it under her arm. He looked at her and gestured to the empty chair.

"Please sit, Major. The sergeant took your bags to load?"

"He did, Sir."

"I apologize for this hasty meeting. I know you want to get to New Mexico. I assure you, you will be there this afternoon. Will you be going to the Columbia Memorial on Thursday?"

"I have received no invitation to do so, Sir."

"I know. Don't worry about it. Its more for the civilian sector than for us. We accept death in duty as SOP. Civilians have little concept of that."

Pierce looked at her with his hard eyes and saw the hardness reflected back at him. They both had the eyes of killers.

"I have reviewed, just for interest, the file of Sergeant Seth Merchant. He was a very competent soldier, by all accounts. Have you heard anything further on how he died?"

"No, Sir. I was given to the impression that he was murdered during a break-in."

"He was assassinated."

Pierce responded cooly.

"You will, no doubt, hear other variations. He was killed by people we are both well-acquainted with."

Mali kept silent as Pierce pulled out a file and set it on his desk. A brief glance at it sent a shiver up her spine. It was a mission folder. She was being 'reactivated'.

"Major, what I am about to tell you does not leave this room. That is, if you will accept new orders? I realize you are not formally on 'active duty' at this time. By accepting this mission, you will have agreed to be."

"I accept, Sir."

Pierce pushed the file to her and watched her remove it from the desk.

She thought it would be orders to kill Plastics. Instead, a very known face looked at her. Her face set to stone. Senator Brian Perry looked back at her.

"Do you still accept this mission without reservation?"

"I do."

"I knew you would."

Pierce rose from his chair and walked over to the semi-blinded windows. They gave a panorama of the Base.

"It is simple, really. The good Senator is a Synth. He was 'converted' after the Trinity River incident. One of his maids was a 'sleeper'. He took a short vacation and that is, we believe, when he was changed over."

"And the Cadre?"

Mali looked at him, her voice neutral.

"Fully aware, now, of his new _status_. It's a serious blow. Not fatal, if quick action is taken. He has forced us to enact measures we would have not otherwise considered. Did you notice the thermal camera that imaged you when you came into the Base?"

"No, Sir."

Mali leafed through Perry's dossier. Pierce noticed that she was already 'focused in' and was pleased.

"Sir, the Senator has had two threats already. How do you propose I acquire?"

"Those attempts were shams."

Mali raised her eyebrows.

Pierce elaborated.

"One of the reasons was that the Synths wanted an 'inside' person. The other was that to have Perry would legitimize their aims to the Sentients. Both elements obviously hate us, organic life, but for different reasons. The Sentients want to become this planet's dominant lifeform. The Synths merely wish dominance over humanity. Both sides need the power and resources to pad their _hives_. The attempts on the Senator's life were mere diversions to throw others off."

He looked at her again.

"The good Senator will be traveling to South Korea next month, as part of a goodwill delegation. The aim is to cajole the North to attend Peace Talks for the region. Its all bullshit, but its fine PR for the gullible. Your only objective will be in completing your mission."

"Sir, it would be tantamount to war, if misinterpreted."

"Normally, your deduction would be correct, Major. There are left-wingers over there who would like nothing better than to boast of killing an 'American Imperialist legislator'. To appease the North is their goal, at any cost. The fairy dream of 'Reunification' in their eyes. However, there is a new tool for snipers now. One that will incriminate them quite effectively."

Pierce took out a small, metal box. When he uncovered it, inside was a long, black round. It looked to be nearly a 50 caliber bullet. He handed it to her.

"We've had 'smart bombs' for a while. Meet the 'smart bullet'. Unfortunately, the Synths got hold of a few. One of them was programmed to kill your Sergeant Merchant. He had gotten too close, at Aerodyne, to a pet project the Synths wanted to have access to. They killed him when he would not talk."

"Christ, this wasn't even prototyped."

Mali breathed. She didn't want to touch it. Handed it back to Pierce, who hid it once more.

"The wonders of new microcomputers. It only needs to be programmed and shot. Even that doesn't require absolute marksmanship. What it does need is somebody who can slip in and out and fire it in the general direction under 1000 yards. It does the rest. Very effectively."

Pierce returned to his chair and sat down. He tapped the button on the desk and Colonel Tyes came back inside.

"Things can be reconfigured to give it a North Korean stamp. Pyongyang might be backward, but not completely."

Tyes looked at her again, before assuming a position off the General's right.

"Colonel, the Major has been 'reactivated'. You will be available to assist?"

"Yessir."

Mali shut the folder and looked up.

"Colonel Tyes will be liaison between you and me. You will coordinate all things through him. You will report only to him, as he is only to report to me."

"Understood, Sir."

Mali stood when the General got up. Watched him come around the desk and extend his hand.

Shook it and knew she'd just gone off the deep end.

"I wish you good hunting, Major. You will also be pleased to know that the Cadre wishes to invite you to become a member. If you are willing."

"I am. Thank you, Sir."

"Director Hodge will be in touch with you in a few days. If you'll forgive me, I have a flight back to Washington. I wish you a good trip."

"To you as well, Sir."

Mali nodded and the General took his leave. Turned back to the Colonel as an orderly shut the door.

Tyes looked at her a moment, then reached into another drawer of his desk.

"This packet contains what is essentially a 'start up' kit. The card gives you access to a private account that is only tracked through a certain Agency, and nobody else. Use it only for duty expenses. Private purchases are not allowed. The wristwatch contains a tracking device. Per the requirements of your new position, you are to wear it while awake. The briefcase is yours, to keep. Reset the code at your convenience."

The Colonel removed a new set of dog tags out of the Manila envelope. Looked at her.

"Your old tags, Major."

Mali nodded, then fished out the tags she'd worn ever since entering the Army. Getting them over her head she handed them to Tyes. Received the new ones to put on.

"Your new tags have a microchip implanted in them. They are far more comprehensive than the old ones. Guard them with your life. They are your field identification from now on. Your old tags will be returned to you upon your Retirement from the Army, or upon Honorable Discharge. They always have sentimental value for folks like us."

"Understood, Sir."

Tyes took a deep breath.

"I know your history, Major. I also know what happened at NASA. There is very little that has not been made known to me about you. I will hope that you could trust me in the future. I want you to know that I have been a member of the Cadre from its inception, if the grey hairs haven't given me away first.

"If there is anything you need, even if to talk, I will be here. That being said, I need to ask you a very private question: what is the nature of your relationship with Commander Taggart?"

"I am in a personal relationship with him. There is also a business aspect, through NASA."

Mali tried to not let her eyes flare. She set the briefcase on her lap and put all the other materials into it.

"I will not counsel you against having it. However, be mindful that the Commander is not part of the Cadre, nor is he privy to anything...any _assignments_ you are given from now on."

Tyes seemed to smile.

"I am glad, if I can say personally, when any of us can find somebody to trust and love and put up with our...natures."

"Understood, Sir. Thank you."

Mali thought a moment about his unexpected sentiment. It wasn't common to ranks like his. The higher you rose, the more distant one became to ranks lower than theirs.

Tyes looked at the clock on the wall as Mali put on her new tags, then her new watch. The old one went into a pocket. The attache case with her. She stood up to attention when she perceived he was finished speaking with her. An old habit they both knew from experience.

"I believe it is time for you to get to your flight, Major. Until I next see you, as the General stated, Good hunting."

Mali gave a sharp salute the Colonel nodded to. Looked up at the Sergeant who came in.

"Please take the Major to her plane, Sergeant."

"Yessir. This way, Ma'am."

* * *

**Johnson Space Center**

Chuck Taggart watched from the edge of the negative-buoyancy pool. Watched as the new astronauts experienced their first venture into comparative zero-gravity. It wasn't the heady flight of the renown 'Vomit Comet', but it was as close as these newbies would come, for now.

Bubbles from below simmered up to the surface. He listened to the conversation through his thin headset on his head. The smell of chlorine was a bit less today and he wondered if NASA's budget was running low in the bleach account.

"Like watching the remedial, underwater spacewalking?"

Chuck looked over as a dark-haired man walked his way with a slight grin.

"Well, Ben Markham. Yeah, but problem is- its not _remedial._ It's the initial phase."

They shook hands and both looked back to the pool.

"I heard that you got fitted into a 'teacher' role. I guess there won't be much of a call for Shuttle Commanders for a while."

"Yeah, maybe a couple years. They'll fly again."

Taggart looked at him.

"Where in hell have you been hiding yourself?"

"Here and there. My duties have taken me all over the Agency. I spent a bit of time in Florida and North Carolina. It was nice to get away from the stiffs here."

Markham looked up. His eyes scanned to see who might be in the observation deck above them.

Nobody was up there. At least, not now.

"If you got time, I'd like to talk with you later."

Taggart knew Markham might want to talk about Ed Scrivens. It was no secret that Ben had always liked the old Director and the feeling had been mutual. Even if Markham was nearly twenty years younger than Chuck or Ed.

"Won't be much time for that on Thursday."

" I know. There's a televised 'memorial' here. Some of us weren't lucky enough to get tickets for the bash."

"Bash? I'm glad you think it is."

Taggart growled. He wasn't looking forward to the traffic and headache from Washington. He always tended to observe most passings at NASA privately. Still, there was the need to present a 'united face' to the Public. It was every NASA employee's obligation.

"You'll have fun. There'll be so many big-shots in attendance. I'm sure Hodge will make her own brand of 'candor' with those assembled."

"Don't remind me."

Taggart could only hope that he and Angela might be placed somewhere near the back of the gathering. The less time in Hodge's eyeshot, the better.

"Somebody told me that Flynn's back in the rotation."

"Yeah? What did _he_ tell you?"

Markham noted the look and grinned.

"You heard his bilge too, eh? Personally, I don't know what to make of it. She's damned lucky to have made it back in, I think."

They both heard a door open as Hodge walked in, leading a few visitors.

"This is our 'negative buoyancy' pool. It mimics the conditions of space for our new astronauts. If you'll look down, you'll see a class working in a mock-up of the Shuttle bay."

"Its almost cold in here."

One of the females, one with short, black hair said.

"Like many government facilities, we have a duty to keep costs down to the American taxpayers. Our real resources lie in what we send into space and in our astronauts."

Hodge saw Taggart and Markham turn. She looked back to the group.

"May I present Commander Charles Taggart and Mission Specialist, Benjamin Markham. Both men have seen considerable time in the Shuttle and have given a great portion of their lives to the Agency."

Taggart was surprised at Hodge's relatively kind words. He smiled and shook the hands of a few of the well-heeled guests of the Director, along with Ben.

"So, Commander, what class is down there today?"

Hodge queried.

"The Class of 2007."

_Here's hoping they make it that far. _

"They are in the process of effecting a mock repair to the robotic 'Canadarm'. It is our main workhorse for lifting payloads from the Main Shuttle Bay. If it is broke, there's nobody to fix it but the crew."

Hodge gave a look at Taggart, then to the guests.

"Every bit of money the Agency receives for its recruits is to ensure that only the best able to do such things, like the Commander described, can be carried out without fail."

"There are some who might propose that robotic 'repairmen' could save considerable money for the Agency. Is that not so, Director?"

A rather officious-looking man offered his view. It almost seemed that he was the last person who really found anything impressive with what he was seeing.

Hodge looked at Taggart.

"Commander, would you care to respond?"

"Machines cannot replace the human need for exploration, like they can repair a part on the Shuttle. Imagine if our first landing on the moon had been with a machine? Some might have argued that would have been cheaper, but what could it have possibly told us? Humans **and** machines have a place up there. There's no doubt of it. But machines can never fully replace humans, or the human presence, in space. The need to explore, to go beyond our planet, will always be there. Machines will never be able to satisfy that desire."

"_Beam me up, Scotty_."

Another man quipped, though good-naturedly.

"Absolutely."

Taggart grinned back.

Hodge, for once, didn't seem to be the bitch at Taggart's response.

"Well stated, Commander."

She then turned to the group.

"If you'll follow me, we'll continue on."

Ben and Chuck watched Hodge leave. Both were amazed at her change in tone.

"Holy shit! I've been hearing things! Did she really say that?"

Markham commented.

"I don't know. I think she feels an impending event coming upon her."

Chuck consulted his watch. Only six more hours to go.

"Monsieur Guillotine's Amazing Machine?"

Markham joked.

Taggart smiled to himself, before looking down into the blue depths of the pool. If the Synth/Sentient presence couldn't be checked, then scenes like this might well never happen again in the near future.

The only things that would go into space would never be remotely human.

* * *

**Tuesday, February 4****th****- Evening**

Chuck decided to forgo his usual bowl of chili at the Canary.

NASA fitness and weight requirements aside, he simply had begun to grow used to have home-cooked food again. Not to mention that Mali cooked damn well and it seemed she enjoyed doing so. Especially when two, hungry men eagerly gobbled everything she put down in front of them.

She even had to resort to what she termed 'strategic hiding' of leftovers so they would not wolf them down before the next day- when they would arrive home famished and not have anything to eat. She'd tipped him off about it being stowed in the crisper drawer when they talked last night. It was no wonder that it hadn't been found. The Taggart men never did much get into vegetables, unless they had to or they were snuck in.

As it was now, there was _PadKraPow_ and jasmine rice in the fridge and Taggart was eagerly wanting to get home to eat it. Then too, Kurt had questioned Chuck's reticence about ordering his favorite dish and wondered about Mali's cooking ability with a comment just uttered a moment before.

"No. As a matter of fact, she cooked some Thai food last night that I'm honestly looking forward to."

"Damn, if its enough to make you forget your favorite dish that must be saying something."

Kurt shot back.

"Maybe I should ask her for cooking lessons."

"You could. She spent a two years in Asia with the Army."

"Where was she stationed?"

Sarah asked.

"Spent a year in Japan. The rest was in a few places. Including a few months in Thailand."

Chuck took a sip of his iced tea and watched Neil bite into a greasy cheeseburger with a fistful of french fries on the side. It wasn't the first time he silently cursed his son's metabolism.

"Rest was in the Mideast and Europe."

Angela cleared her throat. She knew all of them were strung out from a long workday. So was she and she really wanted to get home.

"The reason why I called you here is that my father paid me a visit on Sunday. I wanted to mention it to all of you because what he said was very unusual for him."

"In what way?"

Chuck took another sip of tea, but his eyes didn't leave her face.

"It was not like him. He stated that he didn't want me ruining my career or wasting my time with any of you. He said I'd be throwing it all away if I remained friends with you.."

Angela looked at Taggart, then to the rest.

"..or Flynn."

"Is he just trying to make us into bogeymen?"

Neil asked.

"I don't know. This is a different tack from him. Different from how he was before. He's never taken an interest in or presumed to butt into my affairs like this. His whole tone was changed. Really changed."

"Are you certain that this isn't just the Cadre talking?"

Kurt ventured.

"Along with the fact that we all know he's part of that gang?"

Angela shook her head.

"I don't think so, Kurt. This was way different than anything he's ever spouted before."

"You think it was meant as a threat?"

Taggart said. He had wondered when the fallout from Trinity River would get to them.

"That's what I felt. He has something up his sleeve."

Taggart thought back to how Hodge had him talk with her 'guests' at NASA yesterday. Her ass was not as secure as she might have wished. If it was, she would have treated him with customary disdain. Yesterday morning had been very different. Enough so that Ben Markham had also noticed.

"Well, I don't think he can pull anything at the Memorial on Thursday. Not with the way security will be."

Sarah smiled.

"KNBS wants me to cover it live. I will be along too."

"About time they let you out of that cage."

Angela said. Sarah had been silently enduring her co-anchor for months. To be able to get back out in the field must be a treat.

"Troy pushed hard. The credentials came through late today."

What Sarah didn't mention was her covert relief at being able to get away from Paul, even if it was work-related. He was worse than a parasite. She hated to leave Corey, but she needed some time away to regroup.

Kurt looked over at Neil.

Well, it looks like you and I will be able to have the wild, beer-bong, sex party with tons of naked women we've always dreamed of. What do you say?"

"Sounds damn tempting."

Neil said, playing in and sharing a grin at tweaking his father.

"Cold day in hell it does."

Taggart growled.

"Simply corrupting the young, **again**."

Kurt jabbed back.

"He's plenty **corrupted** as it is."

Chuck took another drink of his tea. The growling stomach wanted Thai food badly.

"Besides, somebody needs to make sure the '1918 Pandemic' doesn't make a comeback while we're away. I'm sure there will be 'talk' about the doings on Thursday."

"Its been quiet."

Neil said, popping some fries into his mouth. He knew he needed to check it once they got home.

* * *

Mali jacked up the heat when she got in her room.

Going out with the guys was great, as always. Problem was, a cold front had gone through so touring the grounds of 'historic Fort Bayard' was a freezer. They all gave thanks that Col. Davis hadn't made it into town yet. No doubt, the Prima Donna would come waltzing in just before the wake and expect proper regard from his- mostly former- underlings.

The ladies of the group- all seven of them- had gone off into Silver City to do some 'antique hunting'. Mali was certainly not inclined to that. She'd lived with enough 'antiques' growing up. It was always held over her head. It came along with being chided for not being a 'proper lady'.

Besides, so much of what was touted as 'antiques' was little more than plain junk.

As she took off her jacket, she heard a knock on her door. A momentary thought of not wanting to be bothered was followed by the curt reminder of who she was to these guys. Much like her friends back in Houston, she had an obligation to them. She went over and opened the door to Hutchins and Scott McMasters.

"Got time?"

Hutchins asked and watched her nod.

The men came in the room, McMasters shut the door behind them and locked it.

"I didn't want to discuss this in front of the other guys. Since you are the resident gun in the unit, what do you make of this?"

Hutchins reached into the pocket of the coat he was still wearing and fished out a zip-loc bag. The bottom held a black bullet she'd seen before.

"Where is this from?"

"Seth's condo. We got it out of a piece of wallboard, after the cops did their own go-over. They're not very thorough."

Mali took the back and held it up to get a better look at the bullet. The fifty caliber slug was not very damaged, due to the comparatively soft medium of wallboard.

"Has it been put under the lens yet?"

"No. All my stuff is back home. Seth's parents are pretty infirm. Besides, Connie would throw a fit. Until I get her back to a point where she isn't Ms. Nosy Bitch, it'd be hard to do a close scrutiny of it."

The firing and impact would have fried the delicate micro-computer/guidance system inside. Still Mali looked at it and thought she saw the remains of the tiny fins the projectile used to adjust to course.

"Do me a favor, don't let anybody else see this. Throw it out."

The two men saw her look as she gave the zip-loc back to them. The words sunk deep. Essentially, it was an order to hide and forget that the bullet even existed.

"What the hell is it?"

Mali turned and wrote on a piece of paper.

**Black Ops. It's a smart bullet. **

"Hell if I know."

Both men read it and stood back.

"Damn, did you fart? Gimme a match!"

She said and let Hutchins flick a lighter for her. She held up the paper as McMasters reached up and twisted down the fire alarm and shoved it under a pillow. She took the flaming bit into the bathroom and waited until it nearly charred itself out, before dropping and flushing. Watched the black shards swirl like the remnants of a Sentient parasite.

* * *

**Wednesday, February 5****th****, 2003**

_There was a gentle bump as the hatches of the two vessels met and latched onto each other._

_The crew had gone through the standard procedure to check the seals and tightness of the lock- a procedure that took almost an hour, before the hatch could be opened and the Shuttle could open up to the world of the ISS._

_One could look up through the small window on the hatch just behind the crew cabin and see the crew of the ISS go through their own routine before the happy welcome of six faces that hadn't been seen in months._

_Taggart and Perry were blowing through the book, no doubt pissing off Houston. They had a good load of supplies for the ISS. The electricity in the air was almost palpable as Sarah, Kurt, Neil, and Walsh went through their own duties. Nearly everybody was in a hurry to get into the ISS. Well, maybe it was only Walsh who- in this go-around- had a bun-on about things. He'd held the grudge ever since Angela woke up and was disoriented during her 'reawakening' during a spacewalk. She would always be the perpetual 'Jonah' in his eyes._

_When time came and Walsh finally removed the hatch with Neil, they could hear Carribean calypso music wafting towards them. The sounds of the tin drums playing in the space seemed to echo happily. The whole crew assembled by the hatch. Floating and waiting for Taggart to go through first. He could only see the space beyond the short tunnel when he heard a voice from the ISS. It wasn't Mali's:_

"_Oh shit! Not __**THEM**__! EEEEUUUWWWW!!"_

_He came out of the tunnel and saw ISS Commander Flynn floating off to the side with a bemused smile on her face. The other three of the ISS crew popped out all of what corners there were to hide behind._

_Taggart's eyes were only on Mali until they could at last embrace- and did._

_He knew the date. It clung in his mind: August 10__th__, 2007........._

Chuck Taggart was awoken by the annoying din of his alarm clock.

It happily rang out that it was 0400 hours and the flight was leaving at 0700 for Washington.

He slammed the button to turn it off and rubbed his stubbled face. He let his left arm drop and felt the empty space it hit. He'd changed out his normal pillow for Mali's. Her scent lulled him to sleep last night. He hadn't called her because he reasoned she'd have a late night with the Wake and the people that would be there.

He looked over at the battery-powered clock she used, on the other nightstand.

Sometimes having a different wake-up than he when she went to the JSC for her training. She'd only been gone a couple days and already he felt alone. The dream ebbed away from him, with it was the image of how the STS-118 mission **should **have gone. Well, maybe with a tweak or two.

Mali wasn't an ISS Commander, yet. Nor would the 'welcome' been so informal. At least, not for NASA eye and earshot. It was still a pleasant wish to contemplate.

He'd packed the night before. All he had to do was take a shower, pull on travel clothes, and grab a considerably cheaper breakfast than the rip-off, food court at the Houston airport.

* * *

**0900 Hours**

True to form, Colonel Leonard Davis was the 'prima donna' who came in at nearly the last minute. He'd been a Captain in Desert Storm and Mali had been a fresh Lieutenant. It might have been over a decade ago, but the feelings in them all still remained. His arrival at the old Church of the Virgin was nearly right upon the last moment. They all had sat through the service without any word. Then came the need to arrive at the cemetary in good order for the burial.

Mali found that she didn't have much to say, past formal pleasantries with the Colonel and his wife. She had to admit that Claire Davis hid her scorn of her very well. She always had. Claire Davis never let her husband know exactly what she thought of this female officer in a Ranger unit Like the rest of the ladies, Mrs. Davis was dressed out in the obligatory black attire. Her black hat shielding her pale face from the harsh sun overhead.

It wasn't long before she left to speak with the ladies and Mali was left to try and make some form of small talk with a man she had not seen in a decade. What helped her remain strong was that she was in her uniform and damn little could get past that.

"I hear you are an astronaut with NASA. How does it feel to work with the civilians?"

"Same as it is for everybody else, Sir."

"I hear you've flown on the Shuttle a few times. Do you still keep in touch with that Apollo guy you knew?"

Mali inwardly bristled at Mattingly's name being bandied about, almost as if the guy were a freak.

"No. I haven't had the time, with my schedule. I'm sure I'll come across him in the future."

Davis turned to look at the distant horizon, then to the grounds of the cemetary.

"I would have thought that you would have been called to Washington for the 'Columbia' deal. In fact, I hadn't expected to see you here."

"My first priority is to those I've served with. There are more than enough to honor those seven astronauts, but who would be left to honor one, dead Ranger?"

Mali looked at Davis and knew she'd shut down his retort before he could even try to get one out. Try as she might, she was happy that decorum had not shut her down from saying it.

Davis regarded her a moment. Then turned to see the approach of a stately, horse-drawn hearse. The ceremony would begin soon.

"I see the sergeant has arrived."

"I heard."

Mali looked over at the sergeants who were milling with their wives. They had also turned to see the hearse. As if magnetic, they began to cluster and the wives began to migrate to the periphery.

"Shall we, Sir?"

Davis nodded, as they walked to take their place at the head of the unit, behind Seth's parents and family members. The dress detail of soldiers that flanked the hearse was appointed by the Army. In position, Mali met Master Sergeant, Scott Mc Masters' eyes and gave a slight nod.

As if on cue, the voice she knew so well rang out in the dry, New Mexico air.

"Company, attention!"

The hearse began to move, its honor guard began walking a measured cadence.

"Forward, March!"

Mali's feet began to walk the measured step as if they were detached from her. She had a fleeting moment of thought about Chuck. That he must be in Washington by now. What she didn't notice was that there were people in the distance who watched them. They would be watching until the burial was well over with.

* * *

**February 6****th****, 2003**

They had roused themselves early to get to the National Cathedral on time.

Had gotten through impossibly-tight security and the glare of news cameras and the press.

It seemed that nearly all of NASA had crammed inside the space, along with the families, dignitaries, and everybody that had been invited.

There were no fake coffins to represent the seven now lost. There was little hope of ever finding the total remains of any of them. What fragments had been found would be interred privately at Arlington, pending a DNA confirmation of the remains.

Chuck Taggart hadn't seen the inside of a church in ages. He suspected that Angela was much the same as he. They both were dressed in the customary black that marked such occasions in a government agency. Sunglasses were tucked away. He'd forgotten how cold Washington got in winter. Wondered if it was warmer where Mali was.

He watched the priest who performed the service, then looked down at his watch.

1317 Hours.

Subtract two hours for time difference- 1117 hours.

The call to Mali had been brief last night.

Col. Davis was still the same, overbearing twit Mali recalled. All the guys made it but one. Eight wives had shown up. The parents of Sgt. Merchant were grateful. The burial had gone off without a hitch. In all, it seemed a very standard affair.

He recalled that Mali had spoken of a morning 'brunch' before the unit broke up, once more, to go their separate ways. They probably were eating right now.

Taggart's eyes came back up and focused on the image of Christ a moment. He didn't know why, but a chill came over him.

* * *

They were in a private dining room of Silver City's best restaurant.

The place was small, but it was exclusive. It was Col. Davis' 'gift' to the parents and the unit that had been under his command long ago.

Everybody was dressed in clothes more suited to traveling, but the venue was quite accepting of things. It was, unlike the day before, a looser affair than the formality of the burial and the funeral dinner. With drinks and food, the talk was lively now. Seth's parents were actually laughing and enjoying the company of those who'd known their son.

Sgt. Conner had evoked a bit of laughing. His funny vignettes of some of the stuff Seth would pull back in the Gulf, had a few people with tears running down their faces. It was the balm for the sad affair they had all endured. There were always risks to service. Even when the service seemed over and people started their private lives.

Mali listened, but knew she was distracted.

The Columbia ceremony was going on. Chuck, Angela, and Sarah were all in Washington. It seemed like the other side of the world. She had to wonder what was happening there. She chuckled as Bart Conner said something and reached for her glass of water. It was when she saw it. Never would have guessed it could happen-

The red dot of a laser scope refracted off the etched glass.

She felt the blood drain from her face. Her hand frozen. She could see Hutchins turn to look at her, saw her face, then saw what she did. The rest seemed to happen in slow motion as the noise of gunfire exploded in the small space.

Mali slid under the table as she felt a burning line go over the top of her head. She would later discover that a bullet intended for her had overshot, because of her reaction. She felt a spray of hot blood against her cheek as Colonel Davis had his throat blown open. In the dark, under the table, she whipped out her Glock. She hadn't packed the extra magazines. Didn't count on being in a firefight. There was a scramble of people to get out. She could see bodies hitting the floor: wives, some of the guys, they were either dead or dying.

Mali crawled over them to get to a side exit that seemed open.

Mustering courage, she raised herself up and whipped off a couple shots, trying to make the doorway. She felt the rounds hit her sideways, in the gut. When her sight found the door she saw the deadpan look of the dark-haired man with the .45 in his hand. The cold look of a killer.

She blasted off three shots into his chest, then saw the muzzle flash. Grimaced through the pain of her gut shots, until two rounds bored into her right shoulder. Her gun arm rendered useless. The Glock dropped, useless, from her hand She saw a third flash and it punched into the left side of her chest. Above her heart. The pain and impact tore the breath from her.

Mali felt her legs buckle and her sight was wobbling. Not before she caught the white ooze coming out of the person who shot her.

Her hearing drained away like she was leaving the place, but wasn't moving. She saw the ground hurry up to meet her and couldn't do a thing to stop herself from meeting it. When she finally hit, she felt herself try to breathe and felt blood begin to come out of her mouth. Her chest was on fire. She wanted to move but could not.

She heard more gunshots as the Synths took care of anybody else who moved. Then heard the solo cadence of a person shooting singly. The Synths were executing those they found. She saw the tennis shoes of the Synth who'd shot her. Saw the blood that was on them. She wanted to move but could not move. She heard their incoherent babble and also heard the sound of sirens as if from far away. Knew that the Synth who shot her might well be ready to shoot her in the head and end it all.

The shoes didn't move. She braced to see blackness, but none came. The shoes disappeared. Other shoes came and went before her eyes. The Synths booked out. She could smell her own blood as it leaked out of her. Heard screaming and somebody retching. Her eyes tried to focus.

She had no idea how much time was passing. It seemed like an eternity before she heard shouting coming from the outside.

The last thing she saw before she blacked out were the high-topped shoes many in law enforcement wore and saw, off at an angle, Hutchins' eyes blink at her. He moved his mouth to speak and her world went dark.

* * *

Sarah, Chuck, and Angela stood outside the KNBS trailer shooting the shit after the ceremony.

Washington would drain out quickly now. The Memorial was over and NASA would limp back to Houston to lick its wounds and regroup.

They talked over what they would do once they got back home. Sarah had to get back to Corey, Angela's training was suspended for now, and Chuck needed to get back to the JSC to continue training the 'tadpoles' to swim in space.

They were talking about nothing much when Taggart's cell pone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and flipped it open.

Neil.

"Yeah, kid, what's up?"

"Dad? Oh God, dad, you got to see the news! Gunmen shot up a restaurant in New Mexico! In Silver City!"

Taggart could hear the tremble in Neil's voice and knew the kid...no, his grown son was shaken. The kid sounded like he'd run a marathon and was out-of-breath.

"Calm down, Neil. Tell me wha.."

"Dad, I saw the name on the computer last night. On the Synth scanner. Silver City! It didn't click until...oh God, dad!"

Taggart could hear the sound of Neil's friends comforting him in the background. They were not sounding like this was a joke either. He looked up and saw Sarah get pulled inside the news trailer with Angela. It was Angela who came back out. Her face was drained. Had opened her mouth and was about to speak. All about him, news people were going to their cars, vans, and trailers to see the news.

Chuck mustered up what focus he had left and talked to Neil. He raised a hand to hush Angela for a moment.

"Neil, you sit tight. We're on the first flight back! You just stay where you are."

"I'm on lunch hour."

"Stay in school for the rest of the day. Tell your teachers nothing, for now. Just sit tight, OK? Look, I got to go. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Taggart snapped shut the cell phone and looked up at Angela. She had remained and waved him inside. The feeling of being in a daze was just starting to hit him. First Paige, now....

He entered the trailer as if walking into a nightmare. Sarah's newscrew was clustered around the CNN report. The scene showed masses of police, fire and ambulances clustered about the outside of a restaurant. He started to catch the voice of the reporter.

"...Workers say that six gunmen stormed into the restaurant and began shooting up a private party in back. Reports say that it was a gathering of soldiers and their wives who'd come to Silver City for the funeral of one of their members. The Army will not confirm the identity of any of the dead at this time, but it is believed none of the gunmen are part of those dead. The soldiers and their wives were mostly unarmed and had planned to board flights to go back to their homes. The meal had been a farewell sendoff. As you can imagine the workers are stunned and shaken. Many would not talk to us. A huge crowd has gathered outside, further hampering the movement of vehicles in and out, before the town's police and county sheriffs cleared the way. This is such a tragedy. Especially on a day when others who have died...."

Taggart turned his face away from the viewscreen and walked out of the trailer. He didn't feel like hearing anymore. The last thing he did hear was-

"No, there don't seem to be any survivors at this time. We'll bring further news as it comes available."

* * *

The paramedics had gotten to Mali late. They simply hadn't expected to find somebody still alive. It was like walking into a war zone. When they flipped her over, her whole body- from throat to groin was dripping with blood. What skin wasn't bloody was cold, sweaty, and very pale. Her pulse was barely felt.

She could see them rip open her shirt wide. The bullet hole above her left breast was weakly pumping out blood. Mali herself felt detached. She shut her eyes a moment and felt herself sit down. Her fingers could feel wood underneath her. Or what felt like wood.

She opened her eyes to a beautiful, park-like scene. The wind was warm and the sun was shining. Her eyes looked up to see a familiar man come towards her. Rumpled khaki pants, corduroy blazer, light blue shirt, and a curiously old-fashioned bow tie. His white hair and white mustache clinched who he was.

The Seeker smiled at her and took a seat beside her. His old, wizened face seemed to appreciate what he saw before them.

"You live on a very beautiful world, you know. I would love to visit it."

Mali simply looked at him. Memories of her final moments aboard the ISS flooding her mind.

"How did you...?"

"I wanted to..._apologize_ for not asking you if you wanted to be returned to your former life. I only had an idea that you were not human after I'd already done so. By then, of course, it was too late."

Mali looked out at the view.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You gave me another chance. I'm not a Synth now."

"No, you are very _organic_."

His eyes seemed to convey the sadness he felt. No doubt had seen the massive blood loss when the paramedics had flipped her over. The fragility of humans was evident by how much had spilled out of Mali's frail, human form.

"Am I dead?"

"No, not unless you want to be. You are very close to it. Your medics can still save you. I came to give you the choice that was denied to you, in my ignorance."

"I have so much left to do."

Mali said quietly. She hadn't wanted Chuck Taggart's face to come into her mind, but it did. The faces of all of them came to her.

"I can't leave them behind."

"Your species is a resilient one, Malinda Flynn. It does not seems to give up as easily as one might think. Your choice will only subject you to much harder tests now. They will even affect those who are like you. The presences you all know are also not the kind to give up their struggle."

Mali gave a sour smile.

"So the fight will go on, I'm guessing."

"It will not stop, if that's what you mean."

The Seeker looked at her.

"There will also be....good to be found in it too. Do not think that you six will forever be alone. Even among those you distrust, there might be an ally or two."

Mali snorted and nodded.

"They will be few and very far between, I think."

"You will find them where you least expect them."

The Seeker watched her look at him once more.

"Send me back. I need to live. My friends need to know."

The Seeker did not speak. He merely gave a smile, nodded his head, and transformed into the black, lacy form more common to his species. The form of a being not remotely human, or organic.

* * *

The ER doctor looked at the heart monitor and saw the heartbeat slowly calm down and get back to a weak cadence. His patient had already burned through two units of whole blood before all the leaks got stopped. With luck, she would be able to get into surgery and get patched up again.

He looked down at the pale, intubated face and saw a little color come back from the deathly gray it had previously.

"Just hang in there. You'll make it out."

He hadn't wanted to admit that this was like a Gulf War flashback. At least, not until he'd seen the dogtags still about her neck.

"Her heartbeat is stabilizing, doctor."

"Thank God for it. Get her prepped for surgery as soon as you can. We got to get her cleaned out and sewn up."

* * *

**Two days later-**

The two survivors of the massacre at Silver City had been flown to Phoenix. The headlines were still blaring about it. President Bush called for an official day of mourning to recall those who were lost. He'd also called the Phoenix hospital the survivors were at to personally find out how they were doing. Perhaps it was no surprise that the Army sent in its own doctors to take care of its two soldiers. Security ringed the entire floor where the two were kept.

Very few could get anywhere near. Even regular patients and their families had to run the gauntlet of media that ringed the grounds and kept a vigil. A makeshift memorial had sprung up in inner circle of the hospital's main entrance; masses of flowers, candles, ribbons and pictures began to mound. Even an American flag or two sprouted out of the display as people, many veterans and service members' families came to leave something. It didn't matter the branch. What mattered was the sentiment.

All of it hit Chuck Taggart's eyes as Sarah's dusty mini-van pulled to a stop outside the entrance.

The newscrews didn't know them and perhaps it was well that they did not. He was feeling punchy. Worry had been eating on him since Washington.

"I'm going to take this to the garage. Angela and I will meet you guys inside."

Taggart gave a nod as Neil and Kurt got out along with him. They weren't legal 'next of kin' like he had been made. He'd wondered why Mali would have even done such a thing. Until he realized that somebody who had nobody still wanted to have somebody.

The three stepped off, onto the pavement and went through the doors before anybody could accost them.

* * *

What surprised him the most, when he got to the blocked-off ward, was that the doctor was waiting there for him. Not even Neil could follow his father upstairs. The group had to be content with waiting on the main floor. They saw the looks on the reporters faces when the police guard escorted Chuck into the elevator.

The media converged after that and it took more guards to keep the four who remained free of being bombarded with camera lenses, lights, and very obnoxious questions.

He now was met by a man who seemed to be in his forties. Saw the man's brown eyes and darkly-handsome face. His curly, black hair topped off a fellow who must have many women swooning over him.

Still, he was all business. He was also Army.

"Commander Taggart? I'm Captain Marks."

Taggart looked at the closed doors in the long hallway, before looking at the doctor again.

"How is she?'

"Major Flynn is, if I can say, pretty tough. She's coming back slowly. Her shoulder took two rounds, so its going to take time for it to return to normal. Her wounding in the abdomen is just starting to heal. What had us most worried was her chest wound. The bullet nicked her aorta. She lost, from what we know, nearly half her blood before paramedics got to her. We got that stitched up alright.."

Captain Marks saw Taggart's eyes tear up, but the man held them back. Sheer force of will.

"Can I see her?"

"She's not conscious, but sure. This way."

The doctor turned, his white coat flapping as he walked.

"The media is a pain. How did they treat you?"

"They didn't even know who we were."

"We?"

"Came in with my son, and some friends. I was the only one allowed up here."

"We are wanting to maintain the privacy of the two survivors. Lord knows, there's enough of a circus to face. Especially once the President got in on things. He has been very kind, though."

Marks opened the door to a room. When Taggart stepped inside, General Pierce turned to look at him.

Pierce saw the look on Taggart's face before he looked at the doctor.

"Captain, unless you need to tend to her, could you leave us for a few minutes?"

The man turned and walked out, silently shutting the door.

Pierce turned to Taggart who, rather than get angry with Pierce being in the room, went up to the bedside. Almost seemed to ignore him. Instead focused on the face with a tube sticking out of its mouth and the eyes taped shut.

"I was hoping you would come."

"Is there a reason I should not?"

Taggart snapped. He gently lifted up Mali's still hand. There was still blood crusted under the nails. It was warm, but there was no animation in it.

"When I found out that she had named you as her 'next of kin', I was surprised. She didn't have any for the longest time. You seem to have found the way to be that, to her."

"Why are YOU here, general?"

"I'm here because we both know who would do this and not give a second thought about it."

The reference to the Synths made Taggart bristle.

"How can I be sure that it wasn't the Cadre who did this?"

"The Cadre does not kill humans, Commander. Not even those who would deserve it. The Major is not one of those people either."

Pierce looked at Mali. The still face seemed to hold his attention for a moment. The Cadre would never desert one of its own.

"The Synths have declared war. You might wish to consider what side you would wish to be on. Even your group might consider the question. You will need to choose a side."

"Like Layton Scott did?"

"Layton Scott."

Pierce mused. All the Cadre knew that Taggart had been friends with the retired, Apollo astronaut.

"Layton Scott has chosen to make himself into a Synth, Commander. You know this, I know this. He has no dealings with the Cadre. If he does make trouble he will be silenced. I think you are aware of how that can be done. As in any war, casualties are to be expected."

Taggart didn't respond as he squeezed what seemed a lifeless hand but for the warmth in it. He truly wanted her eyes to open, for her to say something. Instead there was only the sounds of the machines.

"I would rather that you might let another astronaut friend of hers know her condition. Tom Mattingly called in. He heard that she was here. You might consider doing that, once you return to Houston."

Taggart nodded as Pierce donned his cap.

"I'll take my leave so you can be alone with her."

Pierce came around the bed and stood beside him for a moment.

"She's strong. She'll pull through. Call me, when you have made up your mind."

Taggart saw the business card Pierce offered him. Part of him wanted to rebel, but that part wasn't big enough...yet. He took the business card as the man left the room. Finally left him alone.

Chuck Taggart pulled up a chair and sat beside Mali's bed. He didn't know when he would leave.

* * *

**Unknown Army installation- Somewhere in Idaho**

The Army scientists who looked at the recovered projectile under the microscope knew what they were dealing with. Almost knew before their eyes visually confirmed it.

"There's the fins and the download port. Its been mangled a bit."

"Damn odd, that its missed its target."

"She must've slipped down just before its guidance burnt out."

"Damn lucky. She's the only one who's ever lived through it. So far."

The scientist removed the projectile with a tweezers and set it into a padded dish and put the lid on it. Paused to look up at the glowing face of the room's clock. It was still early evening.

"I think I'll finish it tomorrow. I'm beat. The report can wait till then."

"Yeah, it'd be nice to get home at a decent time tonight."

The scientist put the bullet into the secure containment drawer and locked it down. Flicked the lights off and the room went dark.

"Hopefully, we'll repay the favor to the fuckers who did that. At least, they didn't get all of them."

The pair walked out of their lab and back towards the modern world.


End file.
